


Days and Knights

by positivelypuzzled



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Camelot, F/M, Gen, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/positivelypuzzled/pseuds/positivelypuzzled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in Camelot is one hard day after another for Merlin, but he is lucky to have a small handful of men he calls friends that help him pull through. The knights each help the sorcerer in their own way, from simple tasks and play to reconciling with his feelings for Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days and Knights

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Just now starting to use this account. :) I wrote this story during the hiatus between seasons 3 & 4.

****

Gwaine.

Camelot. Glorious and gleaming- a fortified city high on a hill top, its white stone a beacon to guide its weary war-worn knights and travelers home. Camelot. A kingdom in a bard’s tale- legendary and grand and opulent and a place of scientific discovery. 

“Even more gorgeous in the snow…” Gwaine had once remarked on a winters’ day in passing to Merlin as they split and gathered firewood together to warm the physicians’ chambers. 

The warlock had smiled, picking up a piece of log from where it had fallen from the splitting stump, glancing up at the castle high above them- it was a magical backdrop, even if magic was forbidden. “It is. Makes me forget to breathe sometimes.” 

“Meant you, actually. But the castle is nice, too.” 

“Gwaine-“ Merlin growled, trying to hide his grin as he crouched back down to pick up another log. “Someone might hear you and start to talk… and then rumors will start traveling to the market and into the castle and last thing I need is Arthur making snide remarks about what I do, or who I do it with, in my off time…”

“They don’t have to be rumors, heh.” He lifted the ax in his hands and brought it down into the log with a crack that resounded throughout the snow-blanketed field. “They’re bound to start talking anyways, with the way you come seeking me out in all of your spare time.” 

“Friends, Gwaine. That’s all we are.” He chuckled, setting another log up for Gwaine. “Good friends.”

“Best friends, now that I have some others to compare you to….” The knight amended, “Percy and Arthur draw for second place.” 

“Glad you’ve got it all worked out….” Merlin muttered as he pulled another split log into his arms. “I’m going to take these up to the wheelbarrow. You could help me.”

“Nope. The ax and I are fine right here.” Gwaine laughed. “It was your decision to leave it up near the road.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and started to walk off. “The ground out here is slush….”

“Hey Merlin!”

“What?” The warlock turned around to glance at his friend with an exasperated sigh--- and then gaped and squawked as a snowball came flying his way--- causing him to drop the pile of wood in his arms in order to block his face. “Gwaine! Damnit!” He laughed and ducked as another ball struck him in the shoulder, scooping up snow into his gloved hands to make his own pile of snowballs.

It was too late however, because seconds before the first snowball was ready, Gwaine had crushed him down into the snow, smashing a ball at point blank down into his hair, and another down the back of his shirt, his guffaw echoing through the field and surely to the courtyard a mile away.

~~~

****

Lancelot.

Firelight lapped at the planes on Merlin’s face, painting him with a warm golden glow that nearly matched the shade of his eyes when they lit up with spellwork. He was snoring lightly, lost in whatever dream world he went to when his eyes shut. Lancelot du Lac knew it must be an enchanted place all its own to bring that tiny smile to the warlock’s sleeping lips. He found himself smiling along with him, leaning on the tree at his back. 

The others were fast asleep by now. Gwaine and Percival huddled next to Leon by the fire. Elyan slept a stone throw away, buried under a heap of horse blankets that the others had piled on top of him after he’d drifted off. He would awake sweating, or, as Gwaine suggested, would remain asleep and in the embrace of a pleasant dream (earning a hearty chuckle from Percy and a small grin from Leon).

Arthur had not come on this ranging mission, but had sent Merlin away to collect herbs for Gaius. It was still hard to accept for all of them that Prince Arthur was now prince regent- removed one step further from the common man and his knights…. 

And Merlin. 

Lancelot found himself staring at the young man again, affection moving him to stroke the man’s hair from his forehead. The fringe settled again, and Merlin sighed softly, curling onto his side and rubbing his cheek into the saddlebag he was using as a pillow.

The horses whickered near by, pawing the cold ground with their hooves before quieting again. Lancelot glanced through the trees at them, his fingers sliding to the hilt of his sword and tightening there. It was quiet. It made him uncomfortable.

“Lance?...” Merlin’s eyes opened, and he shook his head a bit, shutting them again. “It’s just cold.” 

“Mmm.” He nodded and took his eyes from the surrounding woods, gazing back down at the warlock with a reassuring smile. “The winds have gotten colder since we settled… but you’re right. They are probably hating Elyan for stealing their blankets.” 

Merlin smiled and stretched a bit, then curled back around his middle, repressing a shiver. “It’s cold.” He agreed again, even more tiredly than before as he drifted off again. “Not this cold at the castle… Arthur needs a fire going..”

Lance stroked his hair again. “Sleep, Merlin. Arthur will be cared for in your absence. Not near as well without you, but he will live…” 

Another moment passed, another gust of cold wind, and Lance saw the young man shiver, the smile sliding from his lips. 

Lance worked the silver clasp at his neck free, tugged his cloak away from his shoulders, and draped it gently over the sleeping warlock. Tilting his head back, the low-born knight surveyed the shadowy tree-tops overhead, longing for an open field and stars instead. 

A whistling snore soon joined the sound of the wind, and Lancelot smiled into the darkness, his fingers ghosting the edge of his cloak. 

~~~ 

****

Percival. 

Upon the highest shelf, covered in a glimmering, flammable gauze of cobwebs, sat the Merlin’s quest: a chest. The glint of sapphires and onyx stones shone through the filmy layer of silk threads, hinting at the wealth the small box had nestled in its hollow. The warlock stretched his fingers up to try and wiggle the box forward, sticking his tongue out and straining upward- willing himself to be taller. His fingers swiped the open air, missing the box by inches yet, and the chair under him groaned in protest, wobbling on its ancient rickety legs.

Merlin did not have to be told twice. He hopped back to the stone floor and cursed quietly beneath his breath. 

Why did Arthur have to have Igraine’s crown? And who in all the gods’ kingdoms had decided that they should store it /here/? 

“Why couldn’t he commission a jeweler to fashion a new crown for Gwen?” He asked aloud. “Would have been so much easier…” Of course, using magic to claim the box would have made the task all the simpler—but even now he was not alone.

“ ’suppose Arthur thinks his mother’s crown will look good on her head?” The sphere of light in the room bobbed as Percival padded into the area with a smile on his face, torch held out in front of him. He was almost always smiling… except when he was at war. Or when talk of Lancelot began.

Merlin pushed the thought aside, trying to occupy the hollow of his thoughts and heart with something more productive than grief. He’d tasted it enough… and Lance wouldn’t want to be mourned like this. The knight wouldn’t even have to see the woman he loved marry someone else. That was some small mercy

… Arthur… 

Focus.

“Yeah, but of course he won’t fetch it for himself.” Merlin remarked with a shake of his head, staring up at the box again. It sat with its lip over the edge, mocking him.

“Merlin, heh, you /are/ his servant.” Percival chuckled, lighting the sconce on the wall with his own torch before hanging it up. The room brightened and even the unpolished gold and silver platters began to glow. “He’s got to order you around a little or you’d just be a pet.”

“Seems I’m already a pet. Fetch, Merlin. Come, Merlin.” 

“Hush, Merlin.” Percy barked out a laugh though, and knocked Merlin in the shoulder with a large gloved hand, standing at his side and towering over him at the same time. The young man nearly fell off his feet at the blow, but chuckled too, rubbing at the spot that was already reddening under his sleeve. 

Percival grinned and trained his gaze on the prize that still remained above them- out of reach even to his longer arm span. He eyed the chair and then caught Merlin’s gaze. And somehow his grin grew bigger.

The warlock stared in disbelief as he watched Percy’s gears turning. He couldn’t possibly mean to try standing on the chair… “Um, Percival, heh… You ... Percival. No. Really… you shouldn’t.” The knight was striding towards it… and Merlin couldn’t bring himself to watch—and couldn’t look away. “It’s going to break---!” 

Undaunted by the unsturdy chair, Percival stood atop it and swiftly reached a hand up to grab hold of the tiny jeweled casket. The spider webs clung persistently- drawing out like spun cotton. And with it came the spider, perched like some eight-legged multi-eyed demon on the very top of the box. Percival beamed like a child with a tourney prize, holding it out to Merlin like some token of his affection. 

And with the thing at arms length, Percival spied the beast he bore—and let out a shout that sounded more like the squeal of a sow before dropping the chest and leaping into the air. Merlin’s eyes shut in anticipation, cringing at the sound of the chair splitting under the knight as they both fell to the ground.

Peeling an eye open, Merlin couldn’t help but chuckle as Percival fought to right himself, his chainmail clinking as it rustled around his large body. It had probably saved him from a few splinters. “I hate to say it… but I did tell you.” The warlock could not keep the smile from his face as he bent to pick up the chest, and reached a hand down to Percival to help him back to his feet. 

Sheepish, the knight stood and brushed himself off, eyes sweeping the floor for an embarrassed moment before laughing at the broken chair on the ground. “Well… I did get you the chest.”

“Yes, you did. You also could have used your sword to lengthen your arm.” Merlin chirped pleasantly as he picked some of the wood pieces off of Percival’s cloak. 

“Uh, well, I guess I could have done…”

“But you didn’t stop to think, did you?” 

“Aw, shut it, Merlin, heh.” The larger man chuckled and ruffled his black hair, “I was just distracted is all.”

Merlin lifted his brows, nodding his head and twittering. “Yeah, I saw that distraction. Real monster, wasn’t it?” Instinctively he moved to duck under the sweep of Percival’s strong swing, but was caught up in the crook of his elbow all the same, groaning as Percival pressed his knuckles to his scalp and rubbed down hard. 

“Anything else to say, Merlin?” Percival laughed along with him, but continued to hold him captive, messing his hair. 

“You need a bath?” 

With another powerful guffaw, Percival unhanded him and pushed him towards the exit playfully “Let’s be out of here then and I’ll let you draw one for me.”

Merlin chuckled and pattered towards the door, the chest nestled under his arm. “Not your servant, Percival.” 

The knight unhinged his torch and followed, a wide smile still stretching into the dimples of his cheeks. “Hush, Merlin.” With his longer stride, he overtook him quickly, passing the coltish young man and turning to face him as he did. “Come, Merlin!” 

“Ass.”

But Merlin went all the same, a little light lingering where the dark had been.

~~~ 

****

Elyan.

 

“I thought I might find you here.” Elyan lowered himself onto the bench across from Merlin, looking over the despondent servant with a smile moved by pity. He glanced towards the tavern wench and lifted his hand. The busty woman nodded and began to fill a mug with frothy ale. 

The Rising Sun was full tonight, patrons elbowing each other at tables to make room for themselves- ale and beer sloshing onto the floor as drunken fools laughed and danced and sang, grabbing the wenches and pressing lusty kisses to their throats and breasts. Tomorrow the king took a wife. Tomorrow the kingdom would be whole again with the promise of an unborn heir to the throne and with him the security of their futures. 

That was all well and good and deserving of celebration, but the bride happened to be his sister, and Elyan felt more entitled to a drink than anyone else at the moment. They would not have to stand in the place of an absent father tomorrow, consenting permission for their sister to marry. That was his responsibility now—granting Gwen the power to rule over them all. A drink was certainly in order. He would never hear the end of it.

Merlin had staked out the corner seat, his eyes shielded as he nursed at a pewter tankard of mead- his fourth or fifth by the look of it. At Elyan’s voice, Merlin lifted his head and conjured up a brief welcoming smile. “Elll-yan.” He drawled in greeting, nibbling his own lip for a second before settling himself a little better in his seat and focusing better on the knight.

As one of Arthur’s inner circle, Elyan had the privilege of accompanying the king many places and seeing many things that the king saw. And the things he did not see. How Arthur was blind to Merlin’s devotion and affection was still a puzzle to him- but the pain etched onto the young man’s face now would likely haunt Elyan well into the next day until the ceremony was over and done. 

“How are you holding up?” He gently nudged the empty tankard from Merlin’s loosened grip. When he received no answer, he tried again with something a little less personal. “How’s Arthur?”

“He gave me the evening off. Insisted on it, actually. Thus, Elyan, I have no idea how he is. How’s Gwen?” Merlin stretched his hand back out and reclaimed the cup, wrapping his fingers back around the cold metal. It was something to hold onto. 

“As giddy as any girl about to marry a king, I guess. She still mourns Lancelot, I think, but she will not speak to me about it. Neither will you, I’ve noticed... you haven’t lost /him/, you know. There’s no need to mourn the living.” He watched Merlin curiously, wondering if the young man was sober enough to catch the change in subject. Back to Arthur. Back to why Merlin was wasting his evening away in a tavern.

Merlin snorted, grimacing down at the bottom of his cup. 

“He’ll still need you after they are wed. It may not feel like it now, but you are not going to lose any ground with him. Time and time he has proven his loyalty to his friends. You are in that number, Merlin. His dedication to you is almost as great as yours is to him… and whatever you may feel, you’re not alone.” Elyan kept his voice low as he spoke, and watched the trace of his words on Merlin’s face- the surprise, the hurt, the hope. 

His ale arrived in the hands of a brunette with blackened teeth and an untied blouse. Her eyes raked him hungrily, gazing at his knights’ cloak and the sigil on his tunic. Elyan offered her nothing more than a smile and a coin for her troubles and waited until she left before continuing. 

“One day you may find that you cannot live forever in his shadow, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of- don’t be afraid to step out of it and claim some happiness for yourself. He would not fault you for that.

“Now… sober up. Whatever he says tonight, Arthur will need you more than ever tomorrow. Off to bed with you, or I’ll have you thrown in the dungeons for a night’s rest.” The words were spoken gently, Elyan sipping the drink from his own tankard as his eyes slipped up to meet the warlock’s. The threat was empty, but the smile he offered was not.

A nod was his only reply and Merlin rose unsteadily to his feet, creeping slowly past the safety of the table towards the door.

 

~~~

****

Arthur.

The motions were all familiar, Merlin’s deft fingers working him into his ceremonial robes and attending to every crease of fabric until it lay smoothly against his body. They had done this a thousand times, for years of sunrises and sunsets, but today everything was different. Arthur swallowed a lump in his throat as he stared at his figure in the mirror, watching the nimble hands fasten clasps and tighten belts. 

“Merlin, say something, for God’s sake. It’s bad enough that my stomach is in knots without you acting the mummer for once.” He looked nervously over his shoulder at the black haired man. “I’m getting married in an hour… God save me.” He wished he could read Merlin’s expression, but it was curiously blank, his eyes hollow and mirthless for the span of a second when they first met- but then the life rekindled there, a small smile lifting into the deep dimples of the servant’s cheeks. 

Did he come to life just for him? 

Arthur swallowed back another lump and moved his eyes back to his own reflection, adjusting his belt slightly so that it didn’t cut so atrociously into his hips. 

“Do you love her?” The reply was soft, barely audible. A whisper at his ear.

Arthur’s chest ached. “What?... Of course.”

“Then what have you to be worried about? Nothing will change. Not really. You’ll just have a wife… not so bad, right? And it’s Gwen. You could do no better if you tried.” 

“No, not so bad,” Arthur showed a smile, looking at Merlin’s reflection in the looking glass. Their eyes met and for a moment Arthur remembered why he would never have anyone else in here. He trusted no one else as much as the man behind him. Sure, he was an idiot (not really), but he was the most loyal idiot he’d ever known- brave and solid and steadfast. How could he dare to doubt himself, when Merlin put so much faith in him?

“I mean, if you do half so well at playing as husband as you do at playing king, what could possibly go wrong?” The spark of mischief in those eyes glittered also with a hundred secrets, many Arthur could never hope to know… but there was always this. 

There would always be the familiar banter- the easy friendship between them.

Of that Arthur was certain. A grin replaced the hesitant smile, and he felt a small amount of courage resurface. “And if you were half as good at being my servant as you are at running your mouth, I’d never have a complaint…. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself… Merlin?”

“Hmm?” The warlock had drifted to the wardrobe, but turned as soon as he was called, smiling easily across the room at him. 

The smile drew him short, another nervous flutter in his stomach making him forget what he wanted to say. He licked his lips and just looked… brows knitting as he watched Merlin pick up his crown from the shelf. It’s polished gold surface shone brightly, and even Arthur could not find a sarcastic remark to fill the silence. “Nothing …”

Merlin returned and placed the crown on his head with care, stepping back to admire what he had put together. “The very image of a king.” But the doubt was still there, and he chuckled, reaching to place a steady hand on his shoulder and meet his gaze once more.

“Arthur, you will do this as well as you do everything in your life. You are honorable and deserving of her, and she you. Being with Gwen is as easy as breathing. You’ll remember it when you see her waiting for you… when you see your mother’s crown on her head at the day’s end… when you cradle your son in your arms someday. Your father would be so proud—“ 

Arthur felt a noise come from his throat, his eyes stinging as he broke his stance and grabbed up the other man in his arms, hugging him hard. He blinked up at the blurry ceiling as he held on and felt Merlin’s arms slip around him, tightening warm and safe around his back.

There was a space of seconds where they stood silent- where it was all right just to breathe and be close. 

And then it was over- the cool air brushing between them as they stepped back and smiled.

Arthur was speaking, his words a whisper that he could barely hear himself. There was no hope for Merlin to hear.

But it didn’t matter anyways.

Nothing needed to be said.

 

~~~

****

Leon. 

A week had passed since the royal wedding, and the castle routines were slowly settling back into the way they had been, though the absence of Gwen bustling around with laundry was new- along with the new serving girl that had been brought in to help Merlin with his tasks of waiting on the king and queen. Leon had never thought he would see the day when a low-born maid would take a throne. 

He’d also never thought he would ever serve in the knighthood with commoners. Elyan, Gwaine, Percival… Lancelot… they were all baseborn men without pedigree- but somehow Arthur had seen past all of the social strata to the men that they /were/- men worth more than their weight in gold. He’d seen past Guinevere’s common birth and married for love. 

It was unsettling and satisfying all at the same time. 

And where else should such change happen than in Camelot? 

The era of Uther was over, and Arthur’s reign was only beginning. It left Leon wondering what other small traditions might be swept away, or brought back. Would Arthur neglect Uther’s campaign against magic or overturn it completely? And what of the Old Religion?

A pang of regret seized him as he wandered through the castle halls. He could still see their faces- the ones that haunted him at night- the druids he’d cut down for no crime other than keeping their faith: dangerous men, according to Uther Pendragon.

Unbidden, the face of the gentle white haired healer came to mind, Iseldir, whose very hands had nursed him back to health. Leon felt a rush of anxiety again as he recalled those moments- the slaughter of his men in the forest by Cenred’s army, the way the world had blurred and the trees had lost their shape as he lay dying. 

And then the Druids- he’d woken among them after the sweetest drink he’d ever known. The taste of fresh baked bread had no comparison, the sound of its crust breaking a symphony to his ears as the peaceful people shared their meal with him and helped him find his way again- turned him free with the knowledge of their location. 

He had been their slayer, sent that very day to patrol and find their camp. Yet they had saved his life.

Would he have shown them the same mercy if their roles had been reversed? 

He left the question unanswered for the hundredth time- the line between his duty and his conscience uncrossed. Hopefully under Arthur’s reign he would never have to make that choice.

The hallway ended abruptly and Leon pulled up short, to the left the staircase went down to the kitchens, and to the right it ascended up to the floor where the royal chambers were. The rattle of a soft snore caught his attention and he turned right, slowly ascending the steps until he came upon Arthur’s servant, Merlin, sleeping on a stair with his head cupped in his hand. 

The hang of his shoulders and the lax expression on his face hinted at the young man’s exhaustion, but Leon could not withdraw his hand once it left his side—moving to stroke the mop of black hair with tender affection. The kid was Arthur’s shadow- but perhaps he was more than that too. Perhaps he was a friend- and if Guinevere could be queen, why not?

Merlin’s eyes peeled open, blue and hazy and unfocused. “Arthur?...” He lifted his head to meet Leon’s gaze, his neck straining under the weight of the knight’s large hand on his head. “Sir Leon? Mm… is there something I can do for you?... I wasn’t sleeping.”

Leon chuckled and ruffled the hair again, “Is there anything you can do in that state? He’s got you camped out here?”

“No. I just… if he needs something…” Merlin chuckled too, his eyes finding Leon’s boots and finding them safer to look at than the man’s face. Arthur hadn’t needed him as often lately- Gwen’s companionship was convenient and pleasant and probably more entertaining, too. She had breasts.

As much as he’d hoped for things to stay the same, Merlin had accepted that they wouldn’t. He just hadn’t expected for it to ache this much.

Leon stood awkwardly in front of the servant. He wasn’t in the business of providing comfort to the lower class (or anyone, really) in an emotional capacity- better to protect them with a sword in his hand, but leaving felt wrong.

Could he send someone for Gwaine? The unruly knight had a soft spot for the kid, he knew. Gwaine boasted about their friendship loudly and with a pride that Leon did not understand. What was there to be gained by befriending the servants, he wondered.

Was there something special about this boy? 

So many seemed to think so.

With a strained noise, Leon slowly turned and lowered himself onto the step beside Merlin. “So…” 

The warlock shifted uncomfortably and gave the knight a hesitant smile. “So?”

Leon tried to think of a question or something he could say that would be witty and well received. Gods knew why- he didn’t have to impress /Merlin/ of all people. But his tongue was dry in his mouth and he shook his head, resting his elbows on his knees and gazing out the window at the blue sky beyond the glass. 

What could he say or do to comfort the kid? 

“Is Camelot different, Leon?” The question drew a baffled stare from the knight, and Merlin rubbed his hands together anxiously. “I only mean that you’ve been here since you were a boy… but you have perspective. You’ve been outside of Camelot too. Your father is a lord?” 

“He is.” Leon considered the question. Camelot was not as much changed as changing... “And it is- Camelot. I came when Arthur was born. I was a squire to one of the knight’s in Uther’s service- Sir Bayard of Caerleon. Seemed everything we did those days was to rid the kingdom of the sorcerers and magic after the late queen died. It both healed the kingdom and broke it. I was just a boy during the trials… children were drowned in wells… pyres always burning…” 

Merlin made a sound that drew his attention again, and Leon furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry. But it was right, wasn’t it? They practiced magic.” But he didn’t sound sure. 

Iseldir’s face again. 

“Arthur’s not his father.” Merlin mumbled, as if trying to comfort himself.

“He’s not. He rules with his heart more than his head, and I do not think that is such a bad thing.” He smiled and nudged the young man with his shoulder. “A little kindness and mercy will go along way in the wake of Uther’s reign. I don’t think we’ll see very many pyres lit- unless it’s in celebration…”

“Do you think he’ll allow the fires to be lit on Beltane?” The pagan ceremony had been all together banned by Uther- practiced in secret still in the small towns. Merlin had attended the yearly festival every May in Ealdor. No one ever spoke of it here.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Leon smiled and nudged again, earning a small grin in return from the servant. “You’re closer to him than anyone else I know…. Aside from the queen.” He chuckled. “But I don’t think you’d want to be /that/ close to him, anyhow…that would be sodomy…. Oh… wow- awkward?”

Merlin burst into a laugh and nodded. “A bit, yeah!” 

Leon blushed sheepishly, running a hand back through his blonde hair. “Sorry. I forgot my manners… It’s not often I sit and talk with a—“ he paused, considering what he was about to say. Merlin sat poised and waiting with a smile. 

Probably waiting for him to put his foot in his mouth again.

“You don’t often sit an talk with /who/, Leon? Handsome blokes like me? I know I’m gorgeous, but you don’t have to be tongue tied.” Merlin teased and chuckled, taking the edge of the moment and offering another quick grin.

“Anyone ever tell you have a wicked tongue?” The knight laughed in disbelief.

Standing to his feet, Merlin stretched and grinned down at him. “Gwaine tells me all the time. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to retire for the evening. Enjoy the cold stairs, heh.”

Leon watched after the young man, shaking his head with a smile. But the smile slowly disappeared as he noticed that Merlin was moving towards the knight’s quarters…. He blinked, shook his head, and chuckled again, rubbing his face. 

“Camelot is certainly different these days, Merlin… but your secret is safe with me.” 

 

~~~

 

****

Merlin. 

The windows were open when he arrived, the late spring air blowing into the room and carrying with it the scent of the blooming fields outside the castle walls—and the occasional whiff of horseshit from the stables- but it was a mostly pleasant smell. Gwaine was readying himself for bed, drawing down the covers and then stripping the shirt from his back and tossing it sloppily to the floor.

Merlin moved forward and slipped his arms around him, pressing his face to his back with a smile and a kiss. 

“Not afraid of rumors anymore?” Gwaine grinned, rubbing one of the hands in his own, callused fingertips brushing warmly over a wrist and taking hold—pulling the warlock around by it so he could hold him properly. The flush that lit the young man’s cheeks made him hot and wanting, but he swallowed down the impulse and brushed the lips with his own. “Glad you came around…”

“Me too.” 

“But it took you long enough. I have company tonight…” A doggish grin stretched his lips as he stroked Merlin’s cheek with his thumb, leaving the skin there warm and tingling. He started with the scarf first- reaching behind Merlin’s head to untie it and drop it carelessly to the ground. 

“Shut up, Gwaine. If you had a paramour I’d know.” 

“Paramour, is it? Hehe… you’ve been reading those steamy girl books… filled your head with notions of romance and flowery knights. Well I don’t give flowers… I pluck them.” Gwaine growled the words with another laugh, nipping at Merlin’s neck and grazing his skin with his teeth even as he tottered them towards the bed, fingers tugging at Merlin’s shirt to pull it free of his trousers. 

Merlin laughed and fell with him, landing with a wince as he fell upon the discarded armor and mail- chuckled sorely and shoved the pieces to the ground. “Easy, I’ve had a long and hard day.” 

“I’ll show you long and hard-“

Merlin barked another laugh, smiling and shaking his head as he looked up at the nobleman. He considered the offer as Gwaine loomed over him, all grins and playfulness. His fingers played at his sides under the fabric of his shirt, testing and curious. 

“Lemme get you out of these, hmm? Take care of you for once?” He bent and kissed Merlin’s neck, tracing a line of short gentle kisses up to his jaw and then at the base of one of his adorable flushed ears.

The sound of those words had taken Merlin’s emotions by surprise, his breath caught as his heartbeats pattered quickly in his chest. The offer pinned him in place, so clear and honest and wonderful…. And he sighed finally, tipping his head back in surrender.

He too could have happiness.


End file.
